


Big and Scary

by Writing-Rammstein (writingfanfic)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 02:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16317509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: For the prompt: 'an SFW fic where the reader can't sleep as they've had a bad nightmare but Ollie soothes them back to sleep, maybe sings to them or something?'Cute things!





	Big and Scary

You lean out of the window, inhaling in the scent of the night. It’s peaceful out here – for now anyway. All you can hear is the distant sound of traffic, far away, and Ollie snoring gently behind you. The flowers reek of pollen, down in the garden – you snuffle a little, and sneeze, nearly pulling a muscle in your stomach trying not to make a noise, before leaning out of the window again.

You don’t notice the snoring stop, but when Ollie’s fingers run through your hair you nearly kick him in the balls, and only miss because he staggers aside.

“Whoa, whoa,” he says, and you blink at him, staring for a moment.

“What did you think was going to happen?”

“Why are you awake?” he counters, and you shake your head, yawning sleepily.

“I had a nightmare. I feel… icky.” He nods, and pulls you close to his chest – you sink your head into it gratefully, stroking over his perfect abs. Normally, you’d be drooling, but right now, you just want his love and comfort. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I was wondering why you were leaning out of the window naked.” He smiles at you, and you smile back. “Come to bed, sweetheart. Do you want to talk about it?” You pause for a moment, and then shake your head, and he leans down, kissing you. “I am the biggest, scariest here. I will scare off any bad dreams.”

“Just glare at them. You’re scary when you glare.” He does so, and you bury your face in his chest. “No-o-o-o, I don’t like it.” He grins, and kisses the top of your head. “The Grim Riedel.”

“Never say that again. Now, come on. Bedtime and in the morning we will find why you are having bad dreams if you want to talk then.” You nod, and he escorts you firmly back to the bed, but not before shutting the window.

“Why did you do that?” you ask, and he climbs into bed next to you.

“So you do not wake me up by sneezing again,” he says, honestly, and then pulls you close, stroking your hair softly. You close your eyes as he begins to hum a quiet, low, simple tune, and between the soft vibration in his chest - his slow, gentle breathing – his fingers in your hair – you fall asleep, and don’t dream again that night.


End file.
